


Footsie With the King

by MirkwoodElf



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Celebration time, Erebor, Footsie, I do what I want, M/M, Playing Footsie, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Thorinduil - Freeform, Thranduil is tipsy, Wow crack, im not sorry, thorin/thranduil - Freeform, yay!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 03:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4730336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirkwoodElf/pseuds/MirkwoodElf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin is having a wonderful evening celebrating the reclaiming of Erebor, when someone starts playing footsie with him. </p><p>Because why not?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Footsie With the King

It was only a night into the week of celebrations for the restoration of Erebor, and the festivities had all but accelerated throughout the first few days. Not that Thorin was complaining. 

He was actually having a good time with his guests- he hadn't been able to relax in such a long time, that he nearly forgot he was allowed to celebrate. Everything seemed so surreal...could this really be it? Erebor was really his? 

As his gaze stretched along the long, stone table, which was lined with his companions and friends of friends, he could not deny it was good to be home again. The smiles on their faces were brighter than any jewel in his treasure horde, and he could not ask for a greater prize. 

Bard,noble and grinning at last, had joined the table tonight, sitting directly to the mountain King's left. After taking a good sip of ale, he looked to Thorin, noticing the nostalgia and tender gaze he held. It was not something Thorin would typically allow others to see, and Bard new that. Patting the dwarf on the shoulder, he smiled, "I am sure you missed this. Welcome home, King Thorin." 

Thorin nodded his thanks, swallowing his mouthful of mead, "Thank you, Bard. We still have much work to do- for both my kingdom and yours. For tonight, let us indulge ourselves." 

Bard nodded his agreement and took a private toast with the dwarf king, then took a good long drink. One night of fun couldn't hurt- not that he would allow himself to get too carried away. Besides, his son and daughters were in good hands. Over the rim of his glass, across the table, his eyes landed on Thranduil, the elvenking- who had possibly had too many glasses of wine? He couldn't quite tell.

However his seat lounging had become quite excessive, and he was actually watching the others with a bit of a smile on his face. He would have asked Thranduil if he were feeling well, but his train of thought was snatched back by Thorin once more, who began to weave a small tale about Erebor to Bard, then inquiring about a few tales of the Lakeman's own. 

After a good couple hours, things had peaked and Thorin had simply begun to sit back and enjoy the show. Dwalin, Fili and Kili had started up a drinking contest, and- 

Something was touching him under the table. 

His foot, to be exact. 

His eyebrows furrowed at the insistent touching, and Thorin blinked. He sat awkwardly trying to figure out what it was for a moment before pushing it away with his boot- 

Another foot-? 

He pushed the other foot away, and it stopped. 

...For less than a minute, and then it was back. 

Mahal! Who was playing footsie with-

He didn't want to look, and make a big scene...but who- the only two nearest with the ability to touch him were the Kings- 

The Kings? Play footsie with him? 

He eyed Bard out of the corner of his eye, but he was sitting rather still, sipping his mead as he was. He then eyed Thranduil, but he seemed quite still as well, watching the scene unfold before them as Dwalin slammed a golden chalice down in victory-

Now the foot was making its way up Thorin's leg! Who would be playing games with him? The need to know caused Thorin to bite his lip a bit, getting more frustrated by the second. "No more games," he thought and scooted his chair out just a bit to look down nonchalantly in his lap and see- 

Oh. 

The slender, bare leg was now in his lap. Rather close for comfort- just the look of it made his mouth dry.

He swallowed roughly, blinking as he followed the porcelain, calf up to meet Thranduil's eyes. When the elf took his boots off was a pure mystery to Thorin. And since he could see his leg, that must mean-

The elf king had the audacity to sit in his dining room with no trousers on. 

He shuddered involuntarily.

He was lounging in his seat like it was no big deal, caressing the dwarf King's upper thigh with his foot. And the look in his eyes? Well, it could be simplified to- 

"King Under the Mountain, would you mind showing me to my chambers? I do believe I would get lost in my current state..." He purred, staring Thorin straight back in the eyes, he smirked, raising his brow as he continued to drag his foot up- 

"I agree. You elves have no sense of direction- even when your senses are not clouded by Dorwinion wine," Thorin replied, pushing his chair out and standing abruptly. 

Thranduil sneered and stood in one fluid motion, following Thorin's lead to the guest quarters, not seeming as drunk as he had put off. Or was he at all-? 

Thorin didn't know, and he didn't really care.


End file.
